“Certainly.” Elizabeth nodded as she adjusted the muffler more snugly around Ruth’s neck, making sure to keep the cold draft out. “You get us started.”
Soon they were singing “Jingle Bells,” including all the verses Jamie and Ruth had learned in school. And before they knew it, they were there, unloading the carriage in front of Elizabeth’s parents’ home.
“Merry Christmas!” Elizabeth’s father said cheerfully as he burst out of the house, bounding down the front steps with energy that belied his age. Not that he was so old, although Elizabeth knew that he’d be fifty-five in a few weeks. But Asa Dawson was a big man and full of life and kindness. Due to his size, he could easily intimidate anyone, but when he grinned he reminded Elizabeth of an overgrown puppy dog. He bent down to hug each of them, wishing them all a happy Christmas. Then, spying the largest crate, he lifted the towel and peeked inside. “Well, well. I reckon I better help you with this one.”
“It’s the pies,” Jamie told him as he helped Flax jump down onto the ground.
“Mmm-mmm…I might just have to sneak that apple pie out back.” He winked at Jamie. “Your grandma banished me from the kitchen and I’m about to starve to death.”
“Oh, Father.” Elizabeth laughed as she picked up the present for her mother. “Are Matthew and Violet here yet?”
Asa shook his head as he opened the door for them. “Matthew went to pick her up some time ago. I thought for certain they’d be here by now.”
“There you are!” Elizabeth’s mother came over to greet them. “About time you children got here. Now come over here and get warm by the fire.”
“Look at the Christmas tree!” Ruth exclaimed. “It’s almost as tall as Grandpa!”
“It’s beautiful.” Elizabeth smiled as she unbuttoned her coat. Being in her parents’ home on Christmas Eve always took her back to childhood days as if nothing had changed over the years. But of course, she and Matthew had grown up. And she had children of her own. And Matthew was engaged to be married in the spring.
She stood by the fire, watching as Jamie and Ruth arranged the presents beneath the tree, carefully placing them and sneaking surreptitious peeks at the other gifts. The two whispered secrets to each other, clearly intrigued with the magic and mystique of Christmas that only children understood. After warning the children not to get too curious and reminding Jamie to let Flax in the house, Elizabeth left them to their fun and headed to the kitchen to help.
“This bird is done,” her mother announced. With her face reddened from the heat radiating from the big black cookstove, she stood straight, rubbing the small of her back with one hand. Clara Dawson was a strong woman both in spirit and in body. Reaching for some kitchen linens to protect her hands, she reached into the hot oven, carefully extracting the large roasting pan.
“I thought Violet and Matthew would be here by now,” Elizabeth said as she tied on one of her mother’s old aprons.
“They were supposed to be here.” Clara set the pan on top of the stove and wiggled a drumstick on the golden-brown turkey. “Everything is ready.”
“I didn’t see Matthew’s carriage on the road.” Elizabeth picked up a wooden spoon to give the gravy a stir. But it already looked creamy and smooth.
“That’s odd. He’s been gone for several hours, and he promised not to be late.”
Elizabeth shrugged, acting unconcerned. After all, Matthew was a grown man. He’d turned twenty-two last summer, and besides helping Elizabeth with her farm, he’d begun building a house for himself and Violet on the back forty beyond the creek. She knew her “little” brother was perfectly capable of getting himself to town and back. “Perhaps he stayed to visit with Violet’s family?”
“Perhaps. But he knew we planned to eat around two. It seems you’d have spotted him on the road into town. Did you see any carriages at all?”
“I saw the Perkins’ wagon headed for town. But nothing besides that, at least that I recall.” Elizabeth set the wooden spoon down. “But I was probably paying more heed to Jamie’s driving skills than to other holiday travelers.”
“I sure hope Matthew didn’t have a problem. I suggested he use the sled this morning, but your father said there wasn’t enough snow for the skids yet.”
“There were still some bare spots on the road.”
“But was it slippery? Perhaps his horse stumbled and the carriage slid off the road.” Her brow creased with worry. “Was it icy?”
“No, Mother. It’s so cold that the snow is dry and crunchy. Not bad at all. Otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed Jamie to drive. I must say, he did a fine job of it too.”
“That boy is growing up so fast.” Clara pushed a graying strand of hair from her damp forehead. “Seems like only yesterday that Matthew was his age.” She shook her head and sighed. “Time sure passes…one day your children are tugging on your apron, and the next thing you know they have children of their own.” She laughed. “Oh, my!”
Elizabeth studied her mother as she spread some butter over the turkey breast and then covered it with linen to keep it moist. Sometimes she forgot that this worn and gray-haired woman had once been young and vibrant. Or that, just like Elizabeth, she’d mothered small children, watched them grow up, and now complained that it all had happened too quickly. Elizabeth couldn’t imagine her children being fully grown or leaving her, but suddenly she wondered if one day she would be just like her mother. It didn’t seem possible.
“Uncle Matthew!” Ruth’s happy cries echoed through the house.
“Sounds like they’re here now,” Elizabeth told her mother.
“Thank the Lord! Let’s start putting dinner on the table before it gets cold, Lizzie. Your poor father’s been complaining that he’s as hungry as a springtime bear.”
Elizabeth was just filling a warmed bowl with potatoes when her father came into the kitchen with a confused expression. “Clara?” he said in a tone that told Elizabeth something was amiss.
Her mother stopped scooping dressing from the turkey. “What is it, Asa?”
“Matthew.” He shook his head and then glanced over his shoulder with a frown.
“What’s wrong, Father?” Elizabeth set the half-filled bowl of potatoes down and went to her father. “Is Matthew all right?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” he said quietly.
“What happened?” Clara asked with concern.
“I honestly don’t know.” Asa scratched his head. “Matthew stormed into the house with a sour expression. Didn’t say a word to me or to the kids. He just marched up the stairs, went into his old room, and slammed the door.”
“Oh, my!” Elizabeth exchanged glances with her mother.
“And Violet?” Clara asked. “Is she out there now?”
“Violet wasn’t with him.”
“Oh?” Clara put a hand to her cheek.
“I’ll go talk to Matthew.” Elizabeth untied her apron.
“Yes, that’s a good idea.” Asa nodded eagerly. “I’m sure Matthew will talk to you, Lizzie.”
“What about dinner?” Clara held her hands up. “It’s going to get cold.”
“Give us a few minutes,” Elizabeth called as she hurried away.
“What’s wrong with Uncle Matthew?” Jamie asked her as she walked through the living room.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“He looked angry,” Ruth said in a worried tone.
“I’m on my way to talk to him.” Elizabeth paused on the stairs. “You two go and ask Grandma if she needs any help getting dinner on the table.” Then she hurried on up and quietly tapped on the door to Matthew’s bedroom, the same bedroom that had been his when they were children. “Matthew?” she called. “It’s me. Can I come in?”
He made what sounded like a “humph,” and she decided to take that as a yes. “I’m sorry to intrude,” she said as she let herself in. With slumped shoulders and hands hanging limply between his knees, Matthew sat in a straight-backed chair, staring out the window w
ith a blank expression as if she weren’t even there.
“What has happened?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, and she sat down on the edge of the narrow bed. “Please, tell me what’s wrong, Matthew. Does it have to do with Violet?”
He turned and glowered at her. “ Violet is dead.”
Elizabeth felt a surge of panic rush through her, and tears filled her eyes. “Violet is dead?” She choked on a sob. “Oh, Matthew, I’m so sorry! How did it—”
“She’s not actually dead.” His hands balled into fists and his blue eyes turned dark and stormy. “But she’s dead to me. I never want to hear her name again.”
Elizabeth stood and, going to him, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what happened, Matthew,” she said gently. “You only have to tell me once. And if you wish, I’ll never speak of it again. But we’re your family, Matthew. We deserve to know what is going on. Please.”
He made a growling sound. “Fine.” He turned to look at her, still smoldering. “I went to fetch Violet—I mean, that woman—I went to get her, and I was informed that she wasn’t there. I asked her mother where she’d gone, and Mrs. Lamott acted funny.”
“Funny?”
“She started saying strange things about Vi—about her daughter. She was talking in circles and wringing her hands. And it just made no sense whatsoever.”
Elizabeth just waited.
“Finally, Mrs. Lamott told me that her daughter had gone with Walter.”
“Walter?” she questioned. “Walter Slake?”
Matthew nodded grimly as he stood. Pacing back and forth in front of the window, slamming a fist into his palm, he looked as if he wanted to slam it into something…or someone. Probably Walter.
Elizabeth was truly shocked. Walter Slake had been Matthew’s best friend since childhood. His parents owned the farm just down the road, but Walter had left the farm in order to work at the bank in Selma several years ago. He’d happily exchanged overalls and work boots for fancy suits and shiny shoes. He even drove around town in a fine new Rockaway carriage with lanterns. She could just imagine Violet sitting prettily by his side in it.
“I don’t understand, Matthew. Where did they go? To Walter’s folks’?”
“No.” He stopped pacing and shook his head. “That’s what I thought too. Vi—I mean that woman—she ran off with Walter.”
Elizabeth gasped. “Ran off? With Walter?”
He nodded with an expression that reminded her of when he was a boy, trying not to cry over some big disappointment. His chin trembled, and she could tell he was on the verge of tears.
“Are you absolutely certain about this?” She studied his pained face. “I’m not questioning you, but…it’s just so hard to believe. Do you know for a fact that it’s true?”
“I heard it from her mother, Lizzie. Oh, she was sorry. Real sorry. And she was embarrassed too. But she said those words herself. Mr. Lamott was so angry at Walter and Violet, he couldn’t even speak.”
“She truly ran off with Walter?” Elizabeth was still trying to absorb this outlandish news. It sounded like something she would overhear about somebody else, one of those hushed but lively conversations that transpired between certain folks while shopping in the mercantile. It sounded like plain old mean-spirited, small-town gossip. She sighed as she realized that was exactly what it would soon be. Small-town gossip.
“Yes.” He slumped back down onto the chair. “My fiancée left me to run off with my best friend.”
“Oh, Matthew!” Elizabeth didn’t know what to say.
“Mrs. Lamott said they were headed to Frankfort and that Walter was going to get a bank job there. And of course, she assured me that they were going to get married too.” He turned to stare out the window again.
“Oh, Matthew…” She sighed, wishing she had a way to make this better, to take the sting away. “I’m so sorry.”
“I took off after them. Drove about ten miles out of Selma as fast as I could. And then I stopped and asked myself, what’s the use? Even if I did catch up with the two scoundrels, which was unlikely, what could I do to make this right? I sure don’t want to force a woman who doesn’t love me to become my wife.” He grimaced, letting out a low groan. “And so I turned around and came home. Really slowly. The horses appreciated that.”
Elizabeth had no words. The truth was she had never been overly fond of Violet Lamott, and right now she wanted to throttle the silly girl. Oh, Violet was certainly pretty and witty and spirited. But she had always seemed somewhat frivolous and selfish to Elizabeth. An only child, she had been spoiled and indulged by her doting parents. However, Elizabeth had no intention of saying as much to her brother. Not now. Probably not ever.
He was wringing his hands now. “I just don’t understand how it happened. Or when it happened. And why I didn’t see it coming.” He shook his head. “With my own best friend too…”
She went over to stand by him. She felt as protective of him now as she had on his first day of school long ago. She’d been twelve and he’d been six, and the first time one of the bullies had even looked cross-eyed at her baby brother, she had intervened. Of course, it wasn’t long before Matthew was big enough to fight his own battles.
“I don’t know exactly how you feel, Matthew, to lose someone like that. But I do know how it feels to lose the love of your life.” She reached up and pushed a strand of light-brown hair off his forehead. “And I’m truly sorry. I know how badly that hurts. You didn’t deserve it.”
He continued to gaze out the window with a hardened jaw, but she noticed a shiny tear slipping out the corner of his eye. But before it reached his cheek, he used a tightened fist to wipe it away. “I’ll get over it. In time.”
“Do you want me to tell Mother and Father for you?”
He just nodded.
She squeezed his shoulder. His big strong shoulder. Her baby brother, all grown up and now brokenhearted. Life was strange sometimes. “Do you think you’ll be joining us for Christmas dinner?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head with misty eyes. “I—I don’t think so.”
“All right.”
“Give them my apologies, please?”
“I’ll do that. And I’ll bring a plate up for you.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” His voice was gruff with emotion.
“I know it’s hard to believe this right now, but you will get past this, Matthew. You’re strong. And you’ll be stronger for it too.”
He nodded but didn’t look convinced. Knowing there was little more to do right now, she left, quietly closing the door. As she went downstairs, she wondered how she would tell her children and her parents. Gathered around the fully set dining room table, they looked up at her with expectant faces.
“What’s wrong with Uncle Matthew?” Jamie asked.
“Is he sick?” Ruth queried with an anxious tremor in her voice.
“No, he’s not sick,” Elizabeth assured her as she went to her chair. She knew her family had a fear of sickness—and for good reason too.
“What is it then?” Clara asked with a furrowed brow.
“Matthew is sad,” Elizabeth told her as she sat down. She looked evenly at her parents. “He sends his apologies that he can’t join us for dinner.” She placed her napkin in her lap and made a forced smile for her children and then nodded to her father. “Maybe you should go ahead and say grace before the food gets cold.”
As Asa said the blessing, Elizabeth prayed for a way to explain Matthew’s broken heart in a way that both generations could understand. As he said amen, she had a plan of sorts. Then, as her father began to carve the turkey, she began to speak.
“There has been a change in plans,” she said slowly. “Matthew and Violet have decided not to get married after all.” Her mother let out a little gasp, and Elizabeth continued. “These things happen sometimes,” she said calmly. “People change their minds about things. And Violet has decided to go to Frankfort.”
“
Who is Frank Fort?” Ruth asked with wide eyes.
“Frankfort is a big city,” Jamie declared.
“Bigger than Selma? Big as Paducah?” Ruth asked. “Paducah is a big city.”
“It’s certainly the biggest city you’ve ever seen,” Elizabeth assured her.
“And our county seat,” Clara pointed out.
“But Frankfort is lots bigger than Paducah,” Jamie informed his sister with authority—as if he’d actually been there. “And it’s the capital of the whole state of Kentucky. Don’t you know that yet, Ruth?”
Ruth ignored him, directing her question to her grandfather instead. “Where is Frankfort?”
“It’s northeast of us a spell.” With a grim expression, Asa laid some turkey on his wife’s plate.
“Will Uncle Matthew go to Frankfort too?” Jamie asked.
“No,” Elizabeth told him. “Matthew is staying here.”
“Is Violet going all by herself?” Ruth was confused.
“No.” Elizabeth looked across the table at her mother, who appeared as confused as Ruth. “Walter Slake is taking her there.”
“Walter?” Holding the carving knife in the air like a torch, Asa gave his daughter a shocked expression, and Clara dropped her fork. They all jumped as it clanged loudly against the plate.
“Why is Walter taking Violet to the big city?” Ruth asked.
“Because Walter and Violet have decided they want to get married,” Elizabeth said plainly. “It seems that they both want to live in Frankfort after they get married.”
“But what about Uncle Matthew?” Ruth asked. “Who is going to marry him?”
Elizabeth made a stiff smile. “Don’t you worry about that, Ruthie. Your Uncle Matthew is a fine young man. Honest and hardworking and smart and fine. The girls will probably be lining up to marry him.”
“Can I marry him?” Ruth asked hopefully.
The grown-ups chuckled.
“No,” Jamie said sharply. “You’re not allowed to.”
Ruth frowned. “But I love Uncle Matthew.”
“You can’t marry your uncle,” Jamie scolded. “Don’t be such a silly goose.”
“Jamie.” Elizabeth shook her head with disapproval. “Manners, please.”
Westward Hearts Page 2
